Chapter 6: Ghosts and Dreams

I had a strange dream, and the book was gone. What would I tell the Family? What would I do without our holy book? I saw you standing in the Chapel, pointing toward the columns. For the first time in a while, you spoke. You told me to go deeper, you told me that if I wanted to know, I would have to unearth the truth. I woke with the Necromancer reading our book, wondering if it had been a dream after all. 

Grant us yet another day, oh sweet Ghost.

Year of Wrath 1231, Season of Waiting D.73, Azorez

Azorez sat on the rock out in the bay, watching the ice crunch together in broken sheets. Sounding like countless chimes, the harbor, as the Dwarves had started calling it, certainly had its own melody when it felt in the mood. Listening to the world pass by, attempting that strange form of meditation that Ilgor had taught her. Open one's ears, hear the world around you. Hear the finest details, hear the song that is in all. 

She wondered if it had merit, some great song. Then again, after having watched that priestess do even half the things she did, she always sang or hummed her magic. The Goblins were slowly getting better at Common, making conversing with them easier and more enjoyable. Though they were very far from fluent, it was remarkable to see them pick up the language so quickly. 

It took the Dwarves off guard when the illiterate suddenly came up the next day, able to use phrases and idioms with remarkable accuracy. Ilgor had told her that she also picked it quickly; they could hear most of the mechanisms, picking out the flow in the speech. The subtle change in tones, the small differences between words. 

A chill wind tried to pick up Azorez's hat from her head, the ribbon holding it down pulling on her chin. Still, she smiled when Ilgor pulled her ears down in embarrassment when she asked if it was just because of the ears. Casting her eyes toward the top of the cliff, she could see a few more frames that had been erected in the last week. The Dwarves were certainly making good headway; they had wanted to build commerce structures first, foundries, workshops, carpentry halls.

She'd never seen how the Dwarves operated setting much beyond their camps up, still Mhuzchet was built in less than five years. She shouldn't have been surprised that a small village like this one was going particularly quickly, with swarms of Goblins being supervised by the Dwarves. The latest crew had started to dig what Azorez thought was a drainage ditch, only to be told that they needed the backfill for the walls, and that this was to be the base layer for the streets. 

She closed her eyes, the sun just beginning to set over the mountains to the west. The last rays of light crest over the Forest, warming her face in the dying light. Listening to the waves once more, surf, crash. She wondered if Ilgor had rested enough for them to begin talking about why she was here. Surf, crash. So horribly curious to see this ritual Ilgor had mentioned, the one where she could speak with the fallen Goblins. 

Surf. Crash. She said that she wanted to start speaking to the older priestesses; she mentioned a name, Rythia. Though she didn't explain much beyond that, she was the first priestess of the Clan. She opened her eyes to see she wasn't alone. Hiding the brief shock of it, her eyes were glowing like amethyst in the full morning light. The Ghost that had been following the priestess, the one she had seen in the Shores Beyond with Yvet.

"You have been keeping to yourself, V'heild." Azorez said calmly. "You haven't visited again since I took Talia into my care." 

The Ghost, her thin frame no longer skeletal, the way Ilgor had described. While Azorez wouldn't have said that she was gaining weight, she still looked malnourished to the extreme. Her hair was slowly starting to grow back in patchy bunches. Something that was curious about this spirit, the Necromancer had never heard of even one account on the form of a spirit changing. The pitch of the surf changed in the shifting wind as the thermals from the cliffs died away without the sun. Nugh, Crash.

The Ghost crawled her way to sit next to the Necromancer, wrapping that tail around her waist. Slithering like a snake through the grass, to rest comfortably with the tuft of the thing resting in her lap. "Why haven't you returned to Skjalich? When you told me that story in the throne room, I was certain you would have returned. Yet, you remain here, following the priestess. Why?" 

She didn't need her magic yet; this ghost had never given her the feeling that it was lingering in the world of the living, more that it belonged here. Nugh, Grash. The sound of the surf was the only response to her question. Looking over this specter more, the ghost ignored her curious gaze, staring right out into the bay. Passed the waters and watching the caves, it seemed. The spirit was some kind of mammal, extremely similar to the Goblins. Her ears were longer, more membranous than fuzzy like theirs were. 

The tail was another massive difference; she also didn't have sharp nails on her feet like they did. She was still bony enough for the Necromancer to examine her in quite some detail, with a very wide pelvis, her femurs bowed out very slightly. Had she not been a spirit and healthy, Azorez would have guessed she'd have some very apt hips; she'd have been surprised if she hadn't had many children. She'd seen enough mothers who had died one way or another to know. 

Not. Ghast. The surf was picking up as the wind wanted to blow inland for the night, echoing the outgoing tides. The Ghost looked back up to her, her sunken eyes darting between hers. She could certainly see why Ilgor had first found this spirit disturbing, though in the form she'd first seen her in, a walking corpse was what she was described as. She was surprisingly lucid for what she was. "Why do you cling to the priestess. I was told you used to speak to her far more often, then had a full conversation with her on the day of the skirmish. Why do you not speak?" Azorez tried pouring just a little magic into the ghost. 

The Ghost jumped and shivered, waving a hand at her to stop. She stood, though it wasn't much, all things considered, she was still only just barely taller than Azorez sitting down. In the frost on the rock, the Ghost wrote a word half in Common, half in Elder Fae. "Listen, song."

Not. Ghost. The surf crashed its endless song against the rock. Ilgor's meditation clicked in her mind for just a moment, listening again to the surf. Not. A. Ghost. The words were faint, distant, like a whisper through a thick door. Slowly turning her head back to the Ghost, she smiled at her. Not. A. Ghost. The surf crashed against the rock again. 

She was speechless for a moment, wondering just what was doing this. She remembered back to when she had first seen the Goblins, she'd seen the V'heild on the Shores Beyond. She reeked of divinity then until Bhal had put a spear through her and undid what she'd done to Yvet's soul. Now sitting here, looking at her, she looked remarkably like a goblin now. "I should say they look remarkably like you." 

The Ghost smiled wider, a little light coming back into her eyes. "You aren't a goblin, you are something else. Why does Bhal strike you down? Why did you try to do something to Yvet's soul? How are you making me hear words in the surf?" Azorez couldn't help but have questions fall from her mouth. 

The not-goblin spirit pointed at the word in the frost again, "Listen, song. Are you saying you sing these things? The words I'm hearing in the surf?" She nodded her head with enough fervor that her ears flapped wildly at their tips. 

"You sing through the world?" She nodded again. "The priestess told me to meditate, listening to something very similar. Are they connected?" Azorez asked questions bubbling up in her throat, though managing to keep them under control. She wouldn't earn much without more very direct questions.

The Ghost pointed to herself and nodded again. Climbing back down the rock to the sand bar connecting the rock to the beach, she beckoned for me to follow. Climbing down after her, having to slow her steps quickly as she caught up to the spirit. Looking behind her, there were two sets of footprints in the sand, "Not a Ghost indeed." She said, looking down at the woman. "Where are we going?"

The Ghost pointed to one of the caves, the chapel chamber. Azorez only knew it because Ilgor had forbidden the Dwarves from touching it at all, and as such, it was the only one that didn't have lumber in front of it. In the next few weeks, the Dwarves were planning on beginning construction to turn the caves into an underground settlement, first starting with building a face for each of the caves. Still, the little specter walked toward the cave, Azorez noting that she walked as the goblins did. Straight lined, place one foot in line with the other, rather than the offset patterns she made. 

Her hips moved like theirs did too, her tail seeming to wag as she shifted her weight. Her ears bouncing slightly with each step, she looked back up at Azorez, staring at her. Waving a finger at the Necromancer, a slight frown on her face, looking away from the specter, they continued toward the caves. "Biologically, they share a lot of traits; they share some of the same mannerisms, some of the same propensities." She thought to herself. 

The raiders, or as she should get used to calling them as well, the goblin soldiers, were the only ones down on the beach at this time. Not even giving a second glance at the two sets of footprints, they didn't even notice the ghost with her. Wondering out loud, "Can they see you, or not?" She turned back to the Necromancer, covering her ears. 

"What, they can't hear?" She thought about it for only a moment before thinking about what she had just experienced. "They can't hear the song?" The ghost smiled, nodding, but shaking her head at the same time. "Not quite, huh." The ghost pointed up, like Azorez had just said something profound. But, she turned toward the caves anyway, walking her pace rather than anything the Necromancer would have found comfortable.

Reaching the threshold of the cave mouth, Azorez noticed they weren't alone here. The priestess was curled up in a blanket at that altar, the one they made offerings to Bhal at. A raised central dais, the gravestones that made up the pillars and archways of the chapel from this vantage point, reminded Azorez of a bird cage. Looking back at Ilgor, the ghost was already sitting next to her. 

Walking up to the two, Ilgor was sound asleep, hair splayed out under her where she had undone her braid for the night. Resting under one of her hands that peeked out from the blanket was their holy book. She had called it something earlier, "Skies Grace, she called it." Only to have Ilgor's ears twitch at the noise, while the ghost looked angrily back at her with a finger over her lips. Azorez found a chair rest along the side of the wall of the chapel, finding it just a bit too inappropriate to just sit next to her and meditate. 

The ghost appeared too enraptured in whatever Ilgor was dreaming about, her expressions changing as if having a conversation with someone Azorez couldn't see. Not wanting to interrupt what she was doing, Azorez closed her eyes, trying to hear this song once more. Wondering if it was an actual song, or if it was meant to be symbolic in some way, many of the meditations she had learned over the years shared that value to some degree. Somewhere in the chapel was dripping water, slow measured. Plook. Plook, Plook. 

Expanding her senses out more, trying not to hyper-fixate on the dripping water. The sound of the surf and its icy waters pounded against the beach; she could barely hear muffled conversations between the Goblins soldiers, the wind whispering through the mouth of the caves. Finding many things to listen to, she tried to listen to them all at the same time. Stretching her magic out in all directions, she didn't know if it would do anything, but she felt like her magic would benefit from pushing out her range of control. 

Plook, Blook, Blook. The dripping water caught her attention while she was in the middle of her exercise, and the sound of the wind shifted her attention. Like a whisper she couldn't quite hear. Like a drunk remembering where they had left their coin, her eyes shot open, understanding. The ghost stared at her from where she watched over Ilgor. Book.

Standing up, she strode quietly over to the priestess, gently taking the book from under her hand. Pulling the blanket up over her shoulders more, Ilgor curled in on herself from the warmth. With the book in hand, she could still hear the dripping water. But, something else struck her, the wind. It sounded like a soft whisper before. Listening closely, she looked down at the ghost. The woosh of air gained in pitch as it entered the cave mouth. Liiiieees. 

Looking from the book, back to the ghost, to Ilgor. Azorez whispered softly, watching the priestess's ears twitch again. "Book is lies." The ghost nodded her head, then vanished from sight, like smoke from a fire; she evaporated away. 

Opening the book in her hands, it was all written in Elder Fae. She couldn't read any of it; maybe an artificer could decipher parts of it, but Gjorn would be her best bet. Or Ilgor herself. "Lies, huh? I suppose I could see why she would say that. Some things are lining up, many others not." Azorez thought to herself, looking back down at Ilgor, she spoke. "You just keep getting more and more interesting."

***

Year of Wrath 1231, Season of Waiting D.73: Neaves

The feeling of the air whipping by, the push against my wings. Splayed to glide for miles before I had to ascend again, the traveling clothes they had given me were surprisingly warm at this altitude. Banking early to go around one of the arms of the mountains back to the Valley. Granted, I could have gone over, but I didn't particularly want to spend hours with damp wings after letting the ice melt from them. 

Still, the new angle let me see the sun begin to rise in the east. The light struck my eyes long before the lands below saw first light, just barely able to see the seas, a thin white line in the distant horizon. A few hard strokes from my wings and I was already several hundred feet higher, ascending through a thermocline where the clouds died off. Happy to see that the only clouds gathering around the mountains where the air pressed against them like a lover in the night. 

I thought back to that conversation with Azu. "You need not forgive her for her actions." The first light of day grew brighter with each passing moment, one of the small villages between the large Human settlement just outside of the Valley and Zelthuma, passing slowly below me. I had taken to using one of Pyria's tactics, flying far higher than I usually would; any human taking a shot at me from this height would have to be the best shot on the continent. 

Arrows would never reach this high; a bullet would have to go through several layers of air, throwing it off target quickly enough. "You need to understand that. You need to understand that love and hatred are so often the same coin." The mountain passing on her right, the lights in the little village dying in the growing morning brilliance. 

"Yet, to let one dominate the other is to accept that love and hate are not needed. One fosters the other, while the other undermines its source." Wondering if Afjie was angry at me for taking off like that, then again. Well, she had said some very hurtful things, the slap across my face a footnote that didn't seem to matter nearly as much. 

"Look to love, for it builds and grows. Look to beauty in all things," The frost over the grasslands melting into their pale golden color, the sun just beginning to rise over the first set of hills. "You'll find that there is far more beauty in the world than truly ugly things. Life can get hard, and this I know. Return to Afjie, and speak to her again. Don't let her love die, don't let yours for her dwindle. The fire burns what you place it against, press it firm against her words, let it rekindle what you thought had become coals." 

Thinking about what I would say to her, I just couldn't think of anything that didn't sound like a challenge. Maybe I was still too angry, maybe I wasn't ready for what life had in store for me yet. Beating my wings hard, feeling the air grow cold against my skin, ice slowly forming at my wing tips. My fire wouldn't keep the cold away forever, but this was fine. Still beating my wings higher and higher, wanting to see the sun before the rest of the world did. 

Ascending through a cloud, the strange feeling of cold rain and fog against my body bringing a familiar nostalgia to me, reminding me about the first time I had ever flown. Old enough to know my name, young enough to break a bone and not complain. Afjie holding my hands to stabilize my first flight as she glided above me, her powerful wing beats giving me a sense of comfort that I was safe. 

Even though I was an Ember, most of the Clan came out to the edges of the Shrine to see Afjie let go of my hands. I remembered her proud look as she laughed with that happy smile plastered to her face. Laughing along with her with glee as my wings glided through the air, I remembered the feeling of gravity meaning nothing to me as I took the first few flaps of my wings. Stumbling a little with turbulence, but Afjie's hand on my back, reassuring me that she'd correct me if I began to tilt. 

I smiled as the memory replayed in my mind, not bothered by anything around me, as the eagles and condors too took flight in the weak light. I had gone higher than I should have, passing into a cloud growing just outside the village. The cold rain stinging my exposed skin and wings, squealing at the new sensation of a cold rain, though my smile never left my face. When my wings began to get tired on that first flight, I remembered flipping over on my back midair. Afjie's proud smile as she caught me in her arms.

Still, I had to shake the memory from my head. As the mouth of the Valley came into view far to the south. The gap in the mountains, spilling clouds like a waterfall in slow motion. The lights in that human city bright on the horizon, like a glowing coal in the fog. Was I really going to stay angry at one instance where Afjie had lost her temper with me? I know I had been pushing my limits more recently, the way the Clan treated us. Thinking back on it, she was far more patient with us than anyone else in the Shrine. 

Quick to admonish those who spoke out against us, or leered in our directions. Quick to hold the Hierophant accountable for his lax stance on our treatment, quicker to call him out where he said he'd been making improvements. Harsh with her sentencing during confessions, but with us? I suppose I had let my anger and resentment fill the spaces for her where I couldn't remember everything. She never yelled at us, never let us go hungry. Except for this most recent incident, she never harmed us, even when we trained. 

She was careful with who she'd let train us. Always watching our practice, always looking when we thought she wasn't. "I really am an ungrateful heathen, aren't I?" My words flying passed my ears in the rushing wind. I suppose this all started when she told me she was considering training me to be the new High Priestess of the clan. It just struck me as a shock, why?

The Valley mouth was far closer now. Marveling at just how fast I was going, breathing a bit of fire into my wings to melt the sheet of ice that had formed on them. I'd best do that now before it'll be too hard to evaporate on its own quickly in the Valley, far too humid to dry out before I reach the village. 

Listing my wings, I started changing direction toward the massive pile of clouds, the smell of humid air making its way to me, even at this height. Searching the mists, old habits dying hard, as I looked for anyone who shouldn't be here. Seeing nothing but the various ground clouds and cumulus blankets that made themselves known at the edges of the Valley. It tended to throw quite a few travelers off if they veered too much from the road. 

Flying quickly over the shield clouds, watching the various geysers throw steam into the air as I flew on by. The air was clear here, not a puff of smoke, steam, or cloud; the throats of the Valley typically had too much air pressure in them to allow for their formation. Slowing my speed as the main vale came into view. 

Well, to call it a view was wrong, the only view there was, was the inexplicable slash through the Valley where us Mistwalkers kept an open channel for humanity to pass through our territory. Like someone had split the clouds, it winded quite a bit as our power ebbed and flowed through this sacred land. The Shrine wasn't far now.

Gliding low over the treetops, brushing fingertips along the soft needles of the green spires of pine. Relishing the feeling, snaking its way along fingers up into my hands, having seen the Humans of the big city of the southwest of the Valley do something similar in the tall grassy plains. The zephyrs creating waves over their vast golden seas of grass, always brushing their hands against their fronds.

I was beginning to see why they did that; it felt nostalgic. Like a long journey home, a moment of solidarity. The soft amber glow of the Shrine lights made themselves known nearing the clearing where the Family's homes were. Pitching my wings upward, slowly while gaining altitude, a rising in the chest as the changing forces on my body reacted.

"I'm late. I stayed too long". But, having gone to the Aquaregia at Afjie's suggestion, surely she wouldn't be mad. It was time for the Kindling for one of the couples in the Clan. A not quite marriage, not quite promising of each other, but an understanding. A hope for the future. Those two had been smitten with each other for months now, and Mother had had enough of their dancing around the bush about it.

It was a discussion between them and the Ascendant Butterfly; the Embers and Mother only assisted in the process. A Clan-wide affair that demanded their full attention, the bright blue fire at the Eternal Flame's Shrine growing brighter as I banked lower over the treetops once more. "Damn it, she is going to yell at me. They've started." My whispered voice echoing for no one in particular, the gentle whoosh of air is its only audience.

Angling toward where I knew Mother and the others would be, getting far too close to another one of the treetops, a few of the small scales in my wing scraped off in a painful twang. Mother had cleared the Mists in the village; she broke through the thin cloud line, glowing like a falling comet, "So much for trying to get here discretely. Really get the tirade now, coming into the Ceremony like a falling star." Distracting everyone from what should have been their sole focus.

Stumbling the landing, coming in just a bit too hot, trying to adjust the angle of the dismount. Trying my damnedest to dampen the fire in them, "Less obnoxious, less like a rain on a wedding day." The couple standing across from me, while the Embers stared with a look not quite of annoyance, but one that just screamed, "Why'd you even bother if you were going to be late?"

Taking my place behind Afjie as she spoke her sermon to them, Pyria and Erlin glancing over. A curious side eye from Pyria, a bored question on Erlin's, neither looking too reassuring at what Mother would have in store for me. Wasn't particularly looking forward to that disappointed face, the look of condemnation. Then again, we'd have grown used to it from the Clan; we were Ember after all, a broken connection to the goddess.

Ryhs didn't even look up as he heard me walk up beside him. His pointed ears twitched at the noise, though he kept his head bowed to the couple like all of us were supposed to be doing. Defiant bunch we were, then again, our role in the ceremony wasn't here yet. That was later.

"Are you alright, Neaves?" Ryhs asked in a barely audible voice, his rough, sandy voice hard to hear even at full volume. "You left in a hurry. Mother told us not to worry." His great size difference to any of us had always made him look intimidating, but the more time you spend with the guy, the better he was. His short sandy red hair had been slicked back as best it could for the occasion. He even bothered to wear his ceremonial armor, while Pyria barely had anything on as usual. Erlin had gone to the effort to wear a better gambeson, his long flowing curls not moving an inch while he adjusted his stance. 

I didn't know how to react to that. Ryhs had never really seemed to care about anything else besides his duty as the Gate Guardian. Never really even spoke to anyone besides the Hierophant and Mother, the other Embers looked over, mildly surprised at hearing him speak. "I'm... fine, just tired, a bit of an experience I've had." I finally croaked out, matching his volume, not wanting to disturb the ceremony.

Ryhs, man of few words, nodded his head and returned his attention to the Shrine. Mother's words caught our attention, giving us the cue for our part. "And let us, Azu, our Ascendant Incandescence, guide the children you left to our care. So that we may be the ones, so that our hands may kindle new flames in life. To guide us forward and forever on."

Stepping in unison, taking a corner of the Shrine, spreading our wings wide, pouring heat into them. Ryhs only trying to lift up his crippled wing, his power thoroughly broken. Though a broken connection most certainly didn't mean powerless, he was the only one in the Clan that the warriors feared. Raising our hands to the Shrine, we chanted the responses back to the couple. The Embers act as the voice of the goddess in the ceremony.

"So you wish to begin anew?" The four voices of the Embers overlapping in long practiced synchronicity.

"We do, a flame to light the world." They answered, clasping each other's hands in a cross pattern.

"Torches on distant horizons, till daybreak comes. A guiding light to be on your own horizons, to each other, the torches to be. Are you sure you wish to be the light of the lives of your choosing?" Not a single verse skipped, all having been memorized long ago. Longer hours spent with Mother, scripture, and rhetoric all mixed together. Patient, she was with all of us, loving with her sermons. But this verse, Azu's own words, rang similar in the bathhouse I was so recently in.

"We do, Ascendant Mother!" They grinned happily, finally feeling the heat of their wings. The crowd joined in on the ceremony now, mimicking the Embers' outstretched wings. Letting loose their fire, the glimmering iridescent wings of the clan caught the reflection of light from the Eternal Flame, now having grown brighter tenfold. I wondered what I would tell Mother. I didn't have much more time before this was over.

The collective heat from the Clan caused a thermal to rise, the mist swirling up and away high into the sky. Bright sunlight falling directly on the couple, gracing them with Azu's grace. As the small thunderhead formed from the rising thermal, the Hierophant stepped forward to continue the Ceremony. Maybe I could slip away before she turned around?

The Embers stepped back in line behind Mother Afjie. Catching the look on her face, I was expecting annoyance, disapproval, maybe even anger. I wasn't expecting Mother to have a smile, one that wrinkled her nose the way she did when she laughed. Stepping back in line with her Embers, placing herself between myself and Ryhs, reaching a hand out to clasp mine in hers.

The High priestess wasn’t angry, not that I could tell anyway, but looked genuinely pleased. She quietly added as the Hierophant belted out his part of the Ceremony. "Someone looks much brighter." All that worrying for nothing.

"It was a bit of a shock, I wasn't expecting to see The Mother there," I answered sheepishly. I thought I would see rage, anger, a lecture brewing in her eyes. But all that worrying is pointless. I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised in the end, Afjie was never the kind to be angry with us. Perhaps I really had crossed a line with my comment before she slapped me. My cheeks coloring with the realization.

The others looked over to us, even Ryhs had opened his eyes in wonder at the statement. Afjie hushed them with a small movement of the hand, pointing back to the couple next to the shrine. "So you took the path of solitude then. Fitting, did you have your question answered?" Afjie was trying to keep her face level, but that smile still peeked through like a bit of blue sky on a cloudy day.

I couldn't look at her, feeling my voice quivering as I tried to force the words out, fearing the consequences that may follow. Not in front of the others, at least, they really didn't need to know of my feelings about the clan, though they knew them anyway. Jumped slightly when Afjie squeezed my hand, waiting. "I'm sorry, I just. I don't feel. I."

Afjie's grip tightened like she was trying to hold onto something falling from the skies, speaking softly out of the side of her mouth. "I am proud of you, Neaves. Just like all the Embers, you are my kids. You didn't want to talk to me after our... disagreement. So I figured you needed some time away from the Valley. I hope you enjoyed the Temple."

I couldn’t look over, a shame coloring my mind and words as she spoke, a brighter heat hitting my cheeks. "I never asked to be an Ember. I never asked to be part of The Shrine Guard. I have never chosen anything for my own life."

The silence in the small group was palpable, like a stone on one’s chest. The Voice of the Hierophant, their only backdrop to an incredibly awkward stillness. Long enough for me to find the courage to face my adoptive Mother's ire, at least that's what it felt like. Afjie was smiling, not looking at her, her cheeks wet from the tears running down them. Pyria open-mouthed staring, Erlin's eyes wide focused solely on me, Ryhs had placed a comforting hand on Afjie's shoulder.

An even longer moment before our Mother spoke, a broken gasp. "And I am proud of the woman you have grown into. By the Grace of Syn, you have become powerful, beautiful, whip smart. I did what I could, I did what was allowed to me, I did my best to raise you all. I know you didn't get to choose this life, I know you were shoved into the roles you have. Did you want to stay with us? Do you really resent me for the life I've tried to make better for you all?"

"Mother, that's not what I. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything." I fumbled hard, trying to pull her hand away. But, breaking all tradition for the Kindling ceremony, she pulled me into a tight hug. Pouring an unfathomable amount of power into me, my wings were glowing like a second sun.

"I have always told you kids, you can tell me anything you want. I knew the clan would never accept you, your wing being torn during your Light Ceremony. I never felt it was right for the Family to do so, so I've always tried my best for you kids. Gave you everything I had the power and authority to do so. If you want something different, please Neaves. Tell me." She whispered into my ear, knowing full well most of the clan was watching as Neaves tried to quell the power in her wings.

"Torches on distant horizons, till daybreak comes. A guiding light to be on your own horizons, to each other, the torches to be. Are you sure you wish to be the light of the lives of your choosing? You know, Darling, this isn't a prayer for love. This isn't a prayer for a couple; we just use it like one. It's a choice, a plea to the Ascendant Butterfly to allow us a brighter tomorrow. To find our own torches on distant horizons." Her voice was much louder than I would have thought she'd try, most of the Clan watching us, even the couple stared as my eyes darted out into the crowd.

Something clicked in my mind. Like an idiot finally realizing the obvious, I wrapped my arms around Mother. A choice, Afjie had never told them to do anything, she asked. This Ceremony was one of choice, not love. To choose the path one walks, to follow what the individual wants. "I love you. Ma."

The Father, the Hierophant, looked at the scene and spoke to the couple for a brief moment. Allowing all but the Embers and the Priestess hear. "She is right, this ceremony is a choice. A choice to choose a path one should walk. So please, choose to embrace our Embers as one of the Clan. For they are abandoned by the light of Azu, raised by our dear Mother. You may not see it, but our Embers feel the distance between them and us. Choose to welcome them, even if you think you have done so, do it again." I felt Afjie smile more than I saw it, at his words.